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“That’s what you’re going to look like when the plastosurgeons get through,” she explained. “They’ll pigment your eyes and skin and hair, and they may be able to add a few inches to your height. Though I think you actually have grown a little. Something about the air, or, more likely, the food.”

“Embelsira thought I was handsome the way I was. Embelsira....” But Embelsira was light-years away. Embelsira was part of a fading dream—and he was awakening now to reality.

“Look at the cube. Look at your status symbol.”

He looked at it, and he kept on looking at it. He couldn’t tear his eyes away. He was hypnotized by the golden glitter of it, the golden meaning of it. “Musician,” he said aloud. “Musician....” A dream word, a magic word. He hadn’t thought of it for years, but this he didn’t have to reach back for. Once touched on, it surged over him, complete with its memories.

But she had made it meaningless, too. He managed to tear a laugh out of his throat. “Spano said I’d be able to buy the Musicians’ Guild when I had my million and a half. Apparently you’ve been able to bargain them down.”